Between the Barn and the Stage

35

My feet hit the ground last. I was wheezing cold air, and something felt wrong. I couldn't tell what, but...it just did. My arms hurt, my neck hurt, my back hurt. My head hurt as well, but not as bad. I now realized I miss-judged the distance. Twenty feet at the least.

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe. My air would only come out, and I was cold. Alaska had been much colder, but I think I've adapted to California weather. I opened my eyes again, looking around. I needed air.

Chatham landed beside me and stumbled a few feet before rushing over. He leaned over me, and I could barely read his lips. They were going way to fast. I couldn't speak, either. It was just impossible.

Chatham stood and ran. He went into his house, and I tried to calm down. Tried to take deep breaths. But the more I tried, the more air came out and less in. After a few short seconds Chatham was beside me again, holding me up off the ground. I could see his mom rushing over, a panicked expression plastered across her face.

And then a cold hand on my face. My eyes darted to Mrs. Will, and she looked less scared. She said something to Chatham before going to my arms. I sucked in a breath--the best I could--as she touched a very sore spot on my arm. After that, I could breath in shallow breaths and out very large breaths. I clenched my teeth when she poked the same spot on my arm again. "Stop touching it." I rasped angrily, and in response she clamped her hand on it. I bit back I scream and closed my eyes. What was wrong with her?

Chatham picked me up--he was able to do that now, I forced him to the gym on the weekdays that end in y--and continued talking to his mother. I could feel a franticness to his voice. Just...felt it. I opened my eyes when the pain in my arm wasn't as bad, and he kept glancing down at me. "I'm fine." I told him, which got me the same exasperated look from before.

We were inside now. In the living room. Mrs. Will was gone, and Chatham was sitting restless beside me, glancing over every half a second. "Are you okay?" he asked me after a little. I was breathing normally now, cradling my forearm. It hurt when I touched it, but otherwise it felt okay. "Yes. I'm fine." I told him, but he still kept bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers.

His mom came back with an arm brace. "You didn't break anything. Probably just a sprain. If there's a fracture, well, um, I guess you'll have to live. Just don't used this arm." she told me, putting it on. "But this is my writing hand."

"You'll have to live." she said with a shrug before leaving. I slowly turned to Chatham with a grin. "No school." I whispered, and he sagged his shoulders, shaking his head. "Don't go jumping off anything else." he told me.

"Don't go making me do it, then." I said, crossing my arms. He shook his head again. "I'm sorry. I really am. Let's go set the table, dinner is almost ready according to mom." he told me, offering a hand when he stood. I realized he was shaking, so I patted his shoulder. "Calm down, man. I'm not dead."

He frowned and looked away. I followed him into his dining room--apparently they don't eat in the kitchen--and put the plates in place. Without me, it was a family of seven. With, it was still a family of seven and a guest.

"Can you come tomorrow?" he asked after getting my attention.

"To what?"

"The thingy-thing."

"That doesn't make sense."

"You know, my...the thing!"

"You clearly don't remember the name." I pointed out, and he glowered at me. "The concert thing or whatever. Interview. Sing a song. You don't have to sing, just...be there. Please?"

"Why? Why do you want me to come?"

"It's really important. Please, say yes."

"Okay, okay. I'll go." I told him, setting down some forks. He Yeessss-ed and pumped his fist. Way to eager. I rolled my eyes and sat down when the rest of his family came in. He sat beside me--on my left, which was a bad decision--and his mom set down a big bowl of chili.

And then suddenly everyone dove in like hungry wolves, hastily waiting for the spoon so they can gorge on the spices and beef.

My left elbow kept bumping into Chatham's right elbow, and it was really bothering the both of us. His fault. After all the chili was gone--which is amazing, the bowl was the size of a mini table--we all left the table and put our dishes in the dishwasher.

Then Chatham and I hogged the bathroom, taking off the sharpie. He no longer looked like a unicorn pooped on him, and I didn't look like I belonged in an anime. The lines were faded enough that I just looked like I was trying to impersonate a granny.

I lay down in my bed. Moonlight drifted through the window, and a wave of calm came over me. Everything felt...right. Like everything is perfect. How it should be. I sighed and closed my eyes, sleep getting the best of me.

I was shaken awake. I shoved Chatham away. "Are you obsessed with trying to make me a glow stick?" I grumbled, sliding out of bed and onto the floor. He loomed over me, eyes buzzing. "Get dressed, we leave in ten minutes."

"Wait, what?"

But he left before he could answer my question. Then I remembered he and his band had an interview today, for charity. They would also do one song at the end of it, then leave. You're part of the band, too. A tiny voice whispered, reminding me.

I scrambled up from the floor and went through my very tiny assortment of clothing. Chatham and I had gone back to my barn to find that yes, it was being demolished. We could salvage only a t-shirt and two pairs of jeans. And of course my bathing suit. After that, he refused to not go shopping for clothing. Sadly, he didn't get anything very formal. All comfy clothes.

I looked around--don't ask me why--and my eyes fell on a red dress. I don't know where it came from, but I was pretty sure I had seen it on Mrs. Will the first time I saw her, back when I still had Sam. It was plain, the only different thing about it was how the sleeves went to the hands as a sort of glove. A finger less glove, the only finger being the middle. Yeah, that probably doesn't make sense, but that's what it looks like. I tugged it on after taking yesterday's clothing off. I pulled on some red sweat pants and shoved the hem in some black boots. I know Chatham has a black sleeve-less leather jacket I can borrow(steal), and I'm sure he won't mind.

I snuck into his room and found what I was looking for. I took a hairband from my wrist and made my hair into a braid. Sloppy, yes, but it worked. I rushed down the stairs in time to see him walk from...wherever he came from. He looked up at me and his jaw dropped. "You stole my jacket?" he asked, holding his heart.

"I'm sorry, but you never wear it." I responded, crossing my arms. He shook his head. "Isn't that my mom's? The dress?"

"It was in my room." I said with a shrug. He laughed, shaking his head even more. "Well, let's go."

I followed him out the house. It was even colder, but thank God we weren't going to be stuck on any balconies. I got into his truck, and after about a month the question finally arose--yeah I'm slow get over it--and I felt kind of mean when I asked, "So, why do you still live with your parents?"

He cocked his head. "I don't really know. I just never kind of left. I mean, I could. Just never wanted to?"

"Okay. Do you even know where you're going?"

He signed the answer as he backed from his driveway. Yes. I rolled my eyes. I sure hope he knows where he's going. I fiddled with the edge of the dress the whole way there. My heart was doing the tango with my stomach when the filming studio came into view.

What had I gotten myself into?